


The Adventures of Deadpool and Fog-pool

by readythefanons



Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 09:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9118114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readythefanons/pseuds/readythefanons
Summary: Deadpool wants a sidekick, and decides Foggy is perfect for the job. Deadpool woos. Karen laughs. Matt seethes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA this one's old, but I still like it!  
> Originally posted on the kinkmeme: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/4501.html?thread=8567189#cmt8567189  
> My only frame of reference for Deadpool when I wrote this was Hawkeye vs Deadpool.  
> My greatest regret is that I didn't work in the exchange, "'You. Are. Putting. Him. In. Danger.' / 'HE LIKES IT THAT WAY!'"  
> With credit, as always, to the folks with the good ideas over at the kinkmeme.

DEADPOOL AND FOGPOOL VOLUME 1: THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT  
ISSUE 1: THE DEVIL’S PLAYTHING

It would sound better to start off with something like “it was just a regular Wednesday night,” but in actuality, it was Saturday and Foggy had been having a miserable one. Guess narrative convention has to suck it.

At any rate, it was Saturday and Foggy was completely and totally ready to be done with it. Move aside, Saturday, let’s give Sunday a chance to not blow. He and Karen had tried to convince Matt into not going out Daredeviling in favor of going out for drinks, but Matt had declined. Foggy and Karen had decided to take their frustration out on their livers and went to Josie’s anyway. Foggy had staggered home, been treated to the usual nightmare (Matt’s dead, Karen’s dead, Brett and Bess are dead, and Foggy is alive and going to trial in front of a fixed jury without his shoes _why can he never find his shoes_ ), and then roused himself at five-seventeen AM because fuck it. He wasn’t getting back to sleep. Might as well get a head start on his deeply impressive hangover. And then he’d turned on the news and it was about how Daredevil had been seen fighting with six men on the rooftops, and blah blah blah. Work was kicking his ass, too.

It was Saturday night, and he was out of toilet paper, so he ran to the store and came back to his apartment to discover a man face down on the floor. He dropped his grocery bag and was halfway across the room before it occurred to him that this was not Daredevil. The suit, though red, was wrong, and the guy inside it was not short enough to be Matt.

“Ma—Man, what, what the hell?” Foggy yelped. Probably shouldn’t scream Daredevil’s secret identity at whoever this was. “What, the. Who?” As he knelt next to the man on the floor, he noted the _shards of glass_ protruding from the man’s head and forearms. Good thing it wasn’t Matt (sorry stranger on the floor). “Ohgod, don’t move. Don’t. Move. I’ll just—” Foggy scrambled to where he’d stashed his (suspiciously large??) first aid kit. “You’ve got—glass. I, I’m just going to get the biggest pieces out, okay? Okay.” He knelt next to the man and pulled on a pair of gloves. He took a deep breath and muttered to himself, “Okay. Okay.” The man was stirred and moved his arms like he was thinking of pushing himself up. Foggy snapped, “Wh—NO! No. I said, stay down. Let me help you!” The man made a curious sound but stopped moving. Foggy shakily started pulling out the shards of glass.

“…Do you know who I am?” the man asked. 

“Don’t move,” Foggy snapped. “Talking makes you move.”

A hand came up and pushed Foggy away. Then the man sat up and spun on his butt so he was facing Foggy. The movement was almost too fast for Foggy to believe.

“How about now?” the man asked.

“…Deadpool?”

The man tilted his head in a way that made Foggy sure he was beaming under the mask. “That’s me! The merc with the mouth!”

Foggy leaned back so he was sitting on his feet.

“Amazing. Completely amazing. How is this my life?” 

Deadpool shrugged and stood up, moving further into Foggy’s kitchen.

“Got any food?” he called. 

“Wha—yeah, yeah. What do you. What do you want to eat?” Foggy asked. Might as well go with the flow. Jesus. 

“I’ll take anything, really,” Deadpool said, opening the fridge and rummaging around. “Although I could really go for some pizza.” 

“There’s a frozen one in the freezer,” Foggy said weakly. “Meat-stravaganza.” 

“Ooh!” Deadpool rummaged around in the freezer, pulling out the pizza and a box of pizza pockets. (How long had those been in there? Foggy needed to clean out the fridge.) He cleared his throat. “Thank you, citizen!” he said in a Hollywood hero voice. 

“I—Foggy. Just call me Foggy.” 

Deadpool ate the pizza pockets, then the lion’s share of the pizza, and left via the window. Foggy shook his head. Sunday better be a heck of a lot better.

\--

Sunday was, in fact, much better. It was so much better that by Sunday evening, Foggy was prepared to forget any of Saturday had even happened. 

Monday was when things got weird. 

It started off innocuously. Foggy got home from work (small business owner whose landlord was trying to force her out of her storefront using shady tactics) to find $40 on the counter and two pizzas in the freezer. Nice. 

Then on Tuesday, Karen brought a bouquet of flowers into Foggy’s office with a confused-amused expression on her face. “The card says it’s from ‘the man in red?’” she said. They checked that the smell wasn’t going to bother Matt, then put the flowers on Karen’s desk. Brightened the office up a bit.

Wednesday: box of bagels couriered to the office. 

Thursday: Socks??? Like, a box of socks. Outside his door in the morning. Because ???

Friday: A paper bag filled with Butterfingers and Twix. Also red and black confetti.

Karen spent the week relentlessly asking Foggy about who was sending him the… gifts. Matt spent the week pretending to ignore it while intently, obviously eavesdropping. 

On Saturday morning, Foggy was woken up from a bizarre dream by a cold, wet nose in his ear.

He yelped and lunged up, almost falling out of bed. 

“What the fuck?” he gasped. Sitting next to him, on the bed, was a puppy. “What the fuck?” he repeated.

“Language,” Deadpool chastised from where he was lounging on the other side of bed. “She’s just a baby.”

Foggy stared at the puppy, then at Deadpool, then back to the puppy. She was. Really cute. Some sort of mutt, but she had to have some spaniel in there. She had floppy ears and crazy quilt patches. 

“Please tell me you didn’t get me a puppy,” Foggy finally managed.

“That would be irresponsible. You won’t have enough time to take care of her. I borrowed a puppy.” 

“You… borrowed?” Foggy repeated slowly. 

“My kid’s friend’s. Her name is Moody.”

“Your kid?”

“The puppy. Say hello, Moody.” Moody barked at Foggy. Holyfuck. Adorable. 

Half an hour of playing with Moody later, Foggy’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t had breakfast. He awkwardly offered some to Deadpool, but the man explained that he should get Moody back before she was missed. (“I thought you borrowed her?” “Possibly without asking.” “That’s not borrowing!”)

\--

It went approximately that way for another week, with apparently random gifts being delivered to Foggy’s apartment or the office, and Deadpool dropped in on Foggy more or less every night. 

Matt wasn’t pleased. In fact, Foggy might have described him as _seething_. Foggy decided to just go along with it pretty quickly. His best friend was a lawyer-by-day vigilante-by-night who gained super powers after getting chemical waste in his eyes while saving a stranger. Sometimes life just threw a man curveballs. 

Besides, Deadpool didn’t seem creepy. Okay, well. Deadpool didn’t seem malicious, which was honestly more important. Foggy liked the gifts, and the company was odd but not bad.

Foggy also, admittedly, enjoyed watching Matt try to pretend to be nonchalant. He kept conversation to business and familiar jokes, but on Tuesday he brought Foggy a cup of coffee and leaned on the edge of Foggy’s desk with a casual air so fake Foggy almost laughed. 

“So,” Matt said brightly, “New man in your life?”

“That’s your opening line, Murdock? Weak,” Foggy said. Matt shrugged. “I met someone new. Not like that,” he added. “Platonic. Suuuuper platonic. He’s just, you know, a guy,” Foggy explained badly.

“Mm. A guy who sends you cupcakes,” Matt murmured. Foggy rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, I know what they say about the way to a man’s heart, but that’s really, really not what’s going on here.”

“Your clothes smell like him,” Matt said. Foggy glanced down at his shirt.

“I am seriously hoping you mean like we’ve been spending time together, not like he’s been, I don’t know, putting them on or throwing them on the ground and rolling around in them.”

“No! No. Like you’ve been spending time together,” Matt hastened to say. 

“Good,” Foggy said shortly. 

Foggy was pretty sure he caught Matt sniffing the air when he came into work every day now. His life sometimes.

\------------

Foggy walked into Matt’s office and closed the door behind him. Matt cocked his head as Foggy fairly slammed a box on the table. 

“So guess what D—my new friend gave me last night,” Foggy said.

“I can’t possibly imagine,” Matt said flatly.

“Feast your super senses on this.” Foggy opened the box. It was one of those reusable gift boxes with wrapping paper and a ribbon printed on it. Matt might be able to smell the ink, Foggy thought, but it was unlikely that he’d be able to smell the ugly teddy bear printed on it. That was probably for the best. He reached inside the box and tossed its contents to Matt. Matt’s brow furrowed.

“Foggy, what is this? Your new ‘friend,’” the sarcastic quotation marks were clearly audible “Give you clothes?”

“It’s a _costume,_ Matt. It has tights.” 

Matt grimaced. “What you and your new ‘friend’ get up to on your own is none of my business. You’re both adults, and as long as he’s treating you alright—”

“What? Matt, what the—No. No, okay, I get it, this is my punishment for making you squirm instead of telling you earlier. Matt. It’s Deadpool, okay? It’s fucking Deadpool. My new friend is Deadpool.” Foggy lowered his voice still further. “He wants me to be his sidekick, Matt. What do I do?”

Wow, Matt was really still. Like, eerily still. Weird didn’t even cover it. Except for his hands, which were tightly fisted in the fabric Foggy’s—of _the_ costume.

“Tell him ‘no,’” Matt said overly evenly. “Simple.”

“Wow, Matt, wish I’d thought of that. Instead I said, ‘Sure, Dea—buddy! I’d love to be your boy wonder! Golly gee, sign me up! And I sure love those tights!’”

The corner of Matt’s mouth twitched. Well, at least he looked a little more human when he was trying not to laugh at the screwball comedy Foggy’s life insisted on becoming. It was just like being back in college, except with a lot more danger and derring-do. 

“Well I hope you didn’t say _that,_ ” Matt eventually said. “I think there might be copyright issues.” Foggy paused. 

“You know, except for the last part, I actually did? And De—he said the same thing about copyright. Weird.”

“Weird,” Matt echoed. They sat in contemplation for a moment, Matt rubbing the material of the costume between his fingers. “Well it’s not Spandex,” he eventually said. “Not nearly protective enough for you, obviously, but better than street clothes. Not that you’re going to do it.”

“Says the man who used to run around— _doings stuff_ in street clothes,” Foggy grumbled. “Did I mention the tights?”

“In fact, I think you did,” Matt conceded. “They seem to be weighing heavily on your mind.” They both jumped when Karen knocked on the door. “It’s open,” Matt called. Karen poked her head in.

“Anyone want coffee? I thought I heard secrets, which we all promised each other we weren’t going to keep any more,” Karen said. She held up a couple of mugs and the coffee pot.

“Karen! Yes. Come in,” Foggy said. “Sit yourself on Matt’s desk with me.” She did so, pushing Matt’s laptop aside in favor of the coffee mugs.

“So?” Karen said cheerfully.

“Foggy’s new boyfriend is Deadpool,” Matt said.

“Boyfriend?” Foggy demanded.

“Karen thought maybe you were seeing someone new,” Matt said blandly. “Flowers delivered to the office, after all.”

“I said he _might_ be seeing someone new, Matt,” Karen sighed. “And it was a reasonable guess.”

“But—Boyfriend?” Foggy asked.

“And it would have been an acceptable exemption from our no secrets policy,” Karen added. Their no secrets policy had been written on about a dozen napkins and it was in code. Technically it was in something like three and a half codes because they’d been pretty drunk when they’d written it, and every time they came up with a better cypher they went with it. It was pretty thorough, all things considered, with clarifying clauses throughout. The section on exemptions included ‘specific sexual activity, unless there is good reason to believe it would be related to gross crime stuff,’ ‘when you might be maybe kind of dating someone but you’re not sure yet and you don’t want to jinx it,’ and ‘crushes, unless mind control or mental projections or some shit.’ 

“But wouldn’t Matt have been able to, you know, tell?” Foggy asked and then regretted it. He always regretted whenever he reminded himself that Matt could probably smell every time he jerked off and wiped his hands on a tissue instead of washing his hands properly. And probably even then. Matt shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“You could have been taking it slow,” Karen said. 

“Well no. Not a new man in my life. New man, no. New mask, yes,” Foggy said. Matt made a face, which was doubly hilarious because Foggy was pretty sure he didn’t even realize he was making one.

“And that is?” Karen asked, nodding to the item that had brought the subject to light in the first place.

“Foggy’s sidekick costume,” Matt said, holding it up. “How’s it look, other than woefully inadequate? I can’t tell.”

“Pretty old school,” Karen said. “Like a strongman’s costume.” She looked from Foggy to Matt. “Are you two…?”

“Nope,” Foggy said.

“Never,” Matt said flatly. 

“Harsh, buddy.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Matt said. The flat, dangerous tone was back in his voice. It was kind of flattering, maybe, that Matt was so worried about Foggy’s safety.

“Well good,” Karen said, neatly dispelling whatever tension Matt may have been trying to cultivate. (Not that Foggy would ever call him a drama machine. He had super hearing, skulked on rooftops, and was occasionally defensive enough that Foggy figured The Man Without Fear still had his sensitive spots.) “If you were taking Foggy out without me, I was going to have to do something drastic.”

“No,” Matt said.

“I’m also not sidekicking for Deadpool,” Foggy felt compelled to add. “I was just trying to figure out how to turn him down when you came in.”

“Well stop trying to figure it out on company time and get back to work,” Karen said. “There’s a potential client coming in at eleven.”

“Which one of us is the boss around here?” Foggy asked. Karen just laughed at him. 

\--

Deadpool dropped by the office. Which is to say, Deadpool came crashing through the window of Foggy’s office and Foggy leapt to his feet shrieking. Matt and Karen were in the door almost immediately, Matt with his hands balled into fists and Karen with a _knife._ (Foggy’s _life._ Sometimes he just had to laugh, because if he didn’t he’d probably be reduced to manful weeping.)

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Foggy shouted as soon as he twigged on to what was happening. “I’m okay. Are you okay?” Foggy asked. Deadpool gave him a thumbs-up from where he was lying like a broken toy but didn’t otherwise move.

“One thing you oughtta know about me if we’re going to keep running into each other is that I’m always okay. Eventually. Just give me some time for my spine to heal up and I’ll be out of your hair. Your hair’s really nice by the way.”

“I—thanks?” Foggy said, completely thrown. 

_“Foggy,”_ Matt interjected, which at least saved him from having to come up with some sort of response to that. “What’s happening?”

“Oh! Um, a, a, guy just crashed through my window. It’s, he’s Deadpool, you remember I told you about him? He’s, uh, he’s lying in a heap right now, but he gave me a thumbs-up earlier so. I guess he’s okay. He’s, uh, he’s a pretty tall guy and he’s wearing a red and black, like, jumpsuit. He has a pair of swords and a huge gun. Not a euphemism,” Foggy said, falling with gratitude back into the habit of describing everything to Matt. Matt and Karen opened their mouths to say something, but Deadpool beat them both to it.

“Do you know you’re narrating things out loud?” he asked from where he was lying in a sad heap. “Careful with that, people will think you’re crazy if you do it where they can hear you. Of course, sometimes they’re right, but I feel like I should give you a warning, Fog-pool.”

“Fog-pool?” Karen repeated.

“—and he looks like a knockoff version of Spiderman.” Foggy finishes. “If you remember what I said Spiderman looks like. That kind of suit. Like Spiderman, but shittier.”

“Fog-pool?” Karen repeated. “That’s worse than Foggy-bear.”

“I remember you talked a lot about his fine ass,” Matt said mildly. “He looks like that guy?”

“Yes, but a shittier version, Matt, try to keep up.”

“Should you be administering first aid, Fog-pool?” Karen asked. She was still holding the knife (it looked like the one she kept around for eating grapefruits), but she was holding less like she was about to stab another human with it.

“Don’t bother, Fog-pool, if you moved me you’d just slow the process down. You don’t have to try to break the fourth wall just because you’re my sidekick. It’s a nice thought, but really not necessary.”

“And there you have it,” Foggy said, ignoring the… rest of whatever the hell Deadpool was going on about. It was a skill he’d been perfecting in the last few weeks. “No need for first aid. And I’m narrating for my partner Matt.” Matt waved sardonically from the door. “He’s slumped facing the wall, I’m pretty sure he can’t see you,” Foggy told him.

“Well at least it’s mutual,” Matt said. “Mr. Deadpool, I’m Matt Murdock. I am, as Foggy has already told you, Foggy’s partner in law. I’m blind.” 

“You’re married?” Deadpool said to Foggy. “That’s nice. Everyone should have someone, or something. Hey! Can I ask--”

“Nope, just law partners,” Foggy said, making good use of his _ignore Deadpool’s word-mouth_ skill. “Karen’s here, too. She’s our secretary.”

Deadpool’s… spine, apparently, finished healing in about eight minutes, along with the rest of him. There was a horrifying moment when all his muscles apparently decided to knit themselves back together at once, and they wrenched his torso back into the correct alignment. (“You’re probably lucky you didn’t have to see that, Matty.” “Sure thing, Fog-pool.”) Once he was more or less in the right shape, Deadpool grabbed his gun and left via the window, shouting a promise to bring beer and pizza to Foggy’s place later. Foggy had no doubt there would in fact be pizza and beer later, and he even had hope that he’d be able to convince Deadpool to pitch in to cover the cost of replacing the window, but Matt and Karen…

“I’ll get you the broom and dustpan, _Fog-pool_ ,” Karen said. 

\--

As Foggy had feared, Karen called him Fog-pool for the rest of the week. Deadpool kept asking Foggy about Matt, like “how did you guys meet?” Matt went back to pretending not to be sniffing Foggy every day he came into work.

\----

“I have it from a reliable source that Daredevil met your boyfriend last night,” Matt said blandly when Foggy come into the office a week later. Foggy paused on the threshold. 

“See, I was going to offer you a Danish, but how I don’t think I want to,” Foggy finally said. He raised the box of pastries he was holding in one hand. “Guess Karen gets yours.”

“What kind of Danish?” Karen asked, approaching him with her hands outstretched to receive the pastry goodness that was her due.

“Cherry cheese,” Foggy said. For Matt’s benefit he added, “From Julienne’s.” Julienne’s was Matt’s favorite bakery. 

“Why do you mock me?” Matt asked. Karen relieved Foggy of the pastry box, cooing happily at the treats within. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Foggy reminded Matt patiently. 

“Oh, that’s right. Because we’re married,” Matt said, still placid as a secluded lake.

“So. Daredevil and Deadpool team-up?”

“More like Daredevil was minding his own business and Deadpool decided to join the party. He’s been hanging around Hell’s Kitchen a lot lately.”

“Is that my fault?”

“What is fault,” Matt said, shrugging philosophically. “He said I have a nice ass.”

Foggy considered that Deadpool was right, but refrained from saying so. Fortunately, at that junction Karen shouted at them that she was going to eat all the pastries if they kept having conversations about their secret double lives without her. 

\--

Turns out that case Foggy was working on—the one with the small business owner with the shady landlord?—was way more hazardous than anyone at Nelson, Murdock and Page hoped. (The name change was basically inevitable; they just didn’t have the cash for a new sign yet. Foggy wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the old sign when they finally did pony up. Keep it or give it to Matt, probably. Be a shame for it to end up in the trash again.) Anyway, it turned out that the lady’s landlord had ties with some sort of crime… family? Foggy was unclear on the details. The shady bastards who’d grabbed him hadn’t exactly taken the time to explain everything clearly with the aid of colorful graphics and flowcharts.

Oh, and he’d been grabbed by some shady bastards on his way home from the grocer’s. He remembered being grabbed, struggling against a dude who seemed to be made entirely of muscle, and then waking up in a moving vehicle bound and gagged with a bag over his head. The pain in his head and the missing time suggested that he should probably get checked for a concussion at the first opportunity. The shady bastards had hauled him out of the car, marched him down some stairs, and untied him just long enough to retie him to a chair. 

He was passing the time by struggling futilely against his bonds and humming showtunes as loudly as he could manage. Matt hated them. Foggy figured if Daredevil was out looking for him, the tunes might catch his attention. And it was marginally better than panicking.

Shortly, Foggy heard what he hoped was his heroic rescue. It started with running feet and some raised voices, then some angry raised voices, then the sound of gunfire. Foggy winced. He really didn’t like the idea of Matt getting shot at. Then there was a huge, concussive boom. What the…? It got much quieter after that. 

Then there was a familiar voice, getting closer. Two familiar voices actually. _Oh, no,_ Foggy thought. _You must be joking._

 _“Stay away from him, you hear me?_ In fact, get out of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Ha, fucking _no,_ but it’s cute you think that’s going to work, horns. Now shut up, I have a sidekick to save.”

“A _sidekick?”_ Oh, good, Matt was so angry he was slipping back into his normal voice. Idiot. Foggy hissed something to this effect under his breath and hoped Matt would pick it up.

“Yeah. This is my sidekick we’re saving, moron.”

“He’s not your—he never agreed to be your sidekick!”

“Aw, hell, I think he’s right. Shut up, I know this is what I get for assuming. Cripes, now everyone is ganging up on me…” 

“I’m in here!” Foggy called, recognizing the dulcet tones of Deadpool starting to talk to himself. “In case you wanted to come save me!”

“I’m coming, Mr. Nelson!” called Matt. Foggy heard the minute pause as his friend remembered that maybe Daredevil should be so obviously on a first-name basis with some random lawyer. Good job, Matt.

“Don’t worry, Fog-pool! I’ll save you!” Deadpool called almost simultaneously. There was the sound of running feet and then—they were still coming closer, but it sounded like they were flipping off the walls and crap. 

Lo and behold, when they finally burst into view, they were indeed flipping all up and over each other and occasionally elbowing and kicking each other. Cool moves aside, Foggy was less than impressed. Surely running to his rescue like normal people would have been more efficient. (“Normal people,” good one, Nelson.) Matt—wait, no, Daredevil ran to his side and started futzing with the ropes. Deadpool was hot on his heels, but instead of helping or, Foggy doesn’t know, maybe just _letting Daredevil untie him_ , the mercenary grabbed Daredevil and yanked him away.

“Get off, I’m rescuing him, got it?” Deadpool said, giving Daredevil a little shove in the chest to make him take a step back.

“Excuse me? No, I’m rescuing him. He’s—he lives in my territory and this is my business.” Daredevil tried to dodge around him without success.

“He’s what, your lawyer? He’s my sidekick, and I get to rescue him.”

“Uh, guys,” Foggy began. They ignored him.

“HE IS NOT YOUR SIDEKICK,” Daredevil shouted, throwing a punch that Deadpool easily blocked. “You’re just some creepy guy who crashed into his life, and he’s too nice to tell you to blow.”

“Oh, wow,” Foggy said under his breath. Harsh, buddy. Not entirely inaccurate, but also not entirely true at this point. “Oh, wow,” he repeated as Deadpool took a swing at Daredevil. No, nope this wasn’t happening. “HEY. NO FIGHTING.” 

To his surprise, they stopped. Foggy decided to roll with it. They seemed just as surprised as he did, easing awkwardly out of their fighting posture.

“Fighting is almost all of what I do,” Deadpool said after a moment. “Except, sleeping, eating, pissing and crapping, and getting it on. It’s probably what I’m best at, not gonna lie.”

“One or both of you untie me,” Foggy commanded, ignoring that. Deadpool and Daredevil looked warily at each other. “Oh, for the love of—Deadpool, cut me out of these ropes.” Matt—and it was definitely Matt, not Deadpool—scoffed, and Deadpool peeled his mask up enough to stick his tongue out at Matt. Jesus Christ. “Never mind,” Foggy snapped as Deadpool took a step closer. “Deadpool, hand Daredevil a knife, and he can cut me out.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Deadpool protested, complying.

“Nobody likes a sore loser, dead head,” Daredevil said. He took the knife and started cutting Foggy’s ropes.

“Wow, haven’t heard that one in almost a month!” Deadpool said brightly. “Why don’t you go sh—”

“And that’s enough of that,” Foggy interrupted, taking his feet. “Thank you, Daredevil. Thank you, Deadpool. I’m going to find a payphone and call the cops now, and you’re free to skulk around and fret about my safety as long as you don’t fight with each other. At all.”

As Foggy was waiting for the police to arrive, he realized that, just as it had been the first time he’d met Deadpool, it was a Saturday. He listened to the sounds of his two masked friends bickering overhead and reflected that his life was unlikely to approach anything close to “normal” any time soon. And that it was just possible that that wasn’t the worst thing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> My original ending notes are as follows: _Deadpool totally drops by Foggy's place whenever he's in Hell's Kitchen. He and Daredevil do that weird dance people always do when they share a close friend but don't get along with each other. He gets along a little better than matt (foggy's pretty sure deadpool thinks he and matt are dating), and he absolutely treats Karen like the precious goddess she is (and you can't tell me otherwise). karen definitely becomes better armed because of her friendship with him. she occasionally responds to kare-pool, but never actually goes out sidekicking for deadpool because NOPE._  
> 


End file.
